Thursday, 20 September 2012

A Fruitful Metaphor

Yesterday, as I lay in savasana at the end of a yoga class,
it dawned on me that yoga is an apt metaphor for life.Through yoga practise I explore
the outer edges of my strength, flexibility and stamina.I learn to flow rather than fight.I learn that it is counterproductive to
be in competition with anyone but myself.I learn that there are appropriate times to be active, to work hard, to
use my muscle; and times to surrender, to give in to gravity and to rest.I learn that some days I have more to
give than others.And it’s all
good.

I am certainly not the first to make this connection, and
perhaps that is why yoga is so wildly popular.But it got me thinking further that almost ANYTHING can
become a metaphor for the human experience.

This is a fractal world, where patterns repeat endlessly
from the microscopic to the galactic.Ever looked at a soap bubble and wondered at its resemblance to our own
planet as seen from space?(“As
above; so below,” noted Hermes.)We live in a hall of mirrors where everything is a reflection of something else and, ultimately, reflects the seer herself.

Take fruit, for instance.

If you thought there was a chasm separating the life of man
from that of an apple, you’d be wrong.First of all, an apple tree needs just the right amount of sun, water
and nutrients, hot and cold seasons, cross pollination and judicious pruning to
produce the best quality apples – sort of like families.And like people, there are many
varieties:big and sweet; small
and tart; crisp and soft, red, green, or a combination of colors; organic or
“conventional” (a term that always makes me snort…shouldn’t organic be
considered “conventional?”) and, of course, some that are beautiful, some that
are misshapen, and even some that have worms.

The metaphor continues once an apple has been plucked (or
fallen) from the tree.Like
leaving home, there are many paths for an apple roll down.Some don’t fall far from the branch and
become fertiliser or food for the birds and bugs. Some have more exotic destinations, like a perfect “Pink Lady”
inhabiting a fancy gift basket.While some, like the average “Granny Smith,” might get sliced up for a
lunch box or made into pie.And,
over time, no matter how delicately handled, even the celebrated “Honey Crisp”
will start to shrivel, wrinkle and, well, you know.

William Blake urged mankind:

”To see a world in a grain of sand,

and a heaven in a wild flower,

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,

And eternity in an hour.”

I urge you to see your life reflected in that "Golden
Delicious" you are about to bite into: A fruitful metaphor indeed.